Ruins of Fate

by Alledria Hurt

  "You are her, aren't you?"

  Jalcina knew she was not that woman. She may have been a Queen and even Vad'Alvarn's true beloved, but she was not Jalcina.

  "No. I am not." Withdrawing from the cell door, Jalcina let her words be her parting gift. No matter what happened, she would always be herself. Wouldn't she?

  Warden stared after her, willing the ghost of her to remain before his eye. Leviana struck him as cold and at times even frightening. Jalcina was not her and her name was not unknown to him. The Queen of Backaran mentioned her when Leviana confronted her about him. Pressing his hands against the door, he steadied himself. No matter what happened, he needed to find a way out of this situation.

  The thought of prison never agreed with him, hence the choice to avoid it. Leviana had gotten him jailed more than once. No matter what his connection to her, it was time to cut ties.

  Of course, he had tried that before and somehow ended up across the world with her. Not somehow, but through the intervention of that soul which wasn't his but belonged to the Black King. The Black King loved the Immortal Queen and sought her at every turn.

  Warden did not intend to have to return to her again. No matter what.

  He still had a simple but important problem. How did he intend to escape from a prison in the capital city?

  And once he did, how far was far enough away to never have to see her again.

  A Lie Revealed

  Standing in a private chamber with guards at the door and chains on his wrists, Warden still did his best to appear at ease. He had walked into lion's dens before and come out with all his limbs intact, he had no reason to think he could not do so now. Of course, in those instances, he hadn't been stripped of his weapons, three days undernourished, and wondering why exactly he was there. Those instances included him hunting his prey into a situation where he had less control, but still knew exactly how he was going to exit.

  This was not one of those instances.

  Across the room, seated beside a brazier of banked coals, was Kendrick. The man looked different from when Warden last saw him. Then he wore a robe not unlike an adherent of Ancel, but with different fringe colors. Funny he never thought about the fringe colors before. What did they mean?

  The man now sat with his hands clasped before him and a pensive expression Warden considered untrustworthy. Of course, the fact that Kendrick kept Warden locked away in a dungeon due to this involvement with Leviana did nothing to help that assessment. She was not his favorite person, but the long days in the dungeon after long days on the trail with her had given him a fondness for her he didn't share for the other man.

  Kendrick beckoned him over.

  "Sit, please."

  Warden gathered his chains in his lap, but sat down in the backless chair.

  "I am prepared to offer you a full pardon for your actions against the Empire in return for your assistance."

  One eyebrow went up, but Warden said nothing. Choosing to say nothing left Kendrick to fill the silence and he didn't at first. Instead Warden watched his eyes as Kendrick studied him, then slipped away to contemplate something else. Whatever the man wanted weighed heavy on his mind. It had to, otherwise why would he be offering a man convicted of murdering the Immortal anything?

  "You have heard of the Black King's seal?" Kendrick asked.

  Outside of the government, the seal was a myth. Something trotted out when they needed to tell the populace something dreadful and wanted to pretend there was a God putting his hand on it. Warden nodded.

  "Then you perhaps know how important it is."

  Warden had watched Leviana take it from near her bed before they left Arathum with the intention of going to Backaran. Back then she wore it around her neck. Thinking back, he hadn't seen it since the Mad City. She must have hidden it between then and now. He didn't know, but apparently Kendrick didn't know that.

  Interesting that Kendrick offered a pardon in exchange for its whereabouts. More important than he thought.

  "That Seal is the final word of the Empire. Without it, we cannot move on from the death of the Immortal. Things are at a standstill. We need it in order to complete the transition. I need you to find it."

  "Ask Leviana."

  "The woman in the dungeon is not Leviana. She is an impostor sentenced to death."

  "Then why haven't you killed her or me yet?"

  The Empire was never known for lengthy discussions of guilt or innocence. Once established, they burned you against a column in short order. Hence Warden's desire to never see the inside of a prison within the Empire. Survival was not guaranteed.

  Warden stretched the short chain between his hands and clicked it in emphasis of his current situation.

  "You know more than you're telling," Warden said. "Something about this is tied to your scheming and the return of the Black King."

  Kendrick started.

  "What do you know about that?"

  "Perhaps more than you want me to," Warden whispered. "Like the fact I saw the blue fire come from your hands. Strange."

  He left out the trip to Backaran and the interview with the Queen or even the conversation he had with an ethereal dragon regarding the Black King's return and his place in it. None of that mattered. He put Kendrick on the defensive as the man reappraised him.

  Good.

  Any chance to get the upper hand.

  "If you know what you say, then you know enough to be dangerous. Why should I let you live?"

  Kendrick's question did not put Warden off at all. Instead, he chuckled.

  "Because I'm the only one who knows anything. The girl in the dungeon has Leviana's body, but not her memories. I know where she's been and what she's been up to since she was out of the Capital. Unfortunately, your bidding price is too low."

  It wasn't completely a lie. Leviana had told him about her travels as they made their way back and he could retrace her steps if need be. Except there wasn't enough in it for him. If at the end of it all he would simply find himself chained to a post, he had no interest.

  Waiting for Kendrick's reply, Warden scanned the room once again, marking exits, weapons, and warriors. Though Kendrick didn't have a warrior's carriage, his power made him unpredictable. The one to take out first if Warden was going to make a break for it. However, he knew he was far enough in the castle that making it to the outside would be difficult at best. Fighting multiple battles with chains hampering his movement didn't increase his chances of survival. No, better to stay and let this play out. He could make a run for it under better circumstances, if they presented themselves.

  "Then you know what she did with the Seal."

  "Perhaps."

  "What is that information worth to you?"

  "Desperate men ask the bargaining price of their competition."

  "The Daughters of Curcula want your head."

  That was not common knowledge, but then again, Kendrick wasn't a common man and Warden knew it. He wondered at their connection.

  "I can see to it they never get it," Kendrick said.

  "I'm not worried about them. They send warriors to assassinate an assassin. It's poor business and eventually they'll give up." Warden stood up. "You aren't offering enough."

  "That's the same thing you told Red Falcon."

  Warden chuckled again.

  "I have a thought," he said. "You used the Daughters of Curcula to hire me to get rid of the Immortal Queen."

  Kendrick's face showed neither apprehension nor guilt, but he also did not deny the accusation. Perhaps more telling was that the guards at the door did not twitch.

  "Things didn't go as you planned. She survived. So you cooked up the idea of her having been killed on the road to insure she didn't come back and retake power. Easy enough to do with the Trusted in your bed. What you weren't counting on was her returning and removing the Black King's seal from the city and thus out of your reach. Now, I'm just guessing, you want to push something through that would need either her approval or the
stamp of the Gods and you don't have it. So you're scrambling to find a way to get it, am I right?"

  Kendrick did not bluster or bellow. He watched Warden with impassive eyes and an uninterested expression. Warden waited for his response by toying with his chains making a slow clinking sound to emphasize the passage of time.

  "You realize I don't have to let you leave this room alive."

  "If you weren't going to, there wouldn't be witnesses."

  With a wave of his hand, Kendrick called the guards toward them.

  "We'll speak again."

  "Of course," Warden said. He mock-bowed and allowed himself to be led away. They would speak again indeed. The question would be whether or not a knife was involved.

  The Adherents of the Light

  The cover of night meant little inside the complex where braziers threw light from every direction to keep the darkness at bay. Inside the walls, they had no choice but to behave as if they had every right to be there. For the others, all two of them, this was no problem. They looked like someone of the Burning Island, all dark hair and dark eyes with muscular builds.

  Mekan looked nothing of the sort.

  His long hair, too long even for the fashion of the island, was bleached in streaks from long days at sea and his eyes carried the turbulent dark waters of his home in Xernia. When they encountered anyone, he ducked his head and made himself small in an attempt to hide.

  Good thing cowardice was considered a sin on this portion of the continent. It kept others from looking at him too closely in favor of his companions who swaggered on and bantered as if they were two men on holiday instead of a mission which might change the course of history.

  Counselor Elisah stood convinced the woman in the dungeon was indeed the Immortal Leviana and while Kendrick held sway over the council, there was nothing she could do short of killing them all to regain her throne. Elisah, despite her propensity for carrying an ax, hoped for a more peaceful solution, starting with getting Leviana out of the dungeon then out of the capital. While her station afforded her much influence, Elisah still had to fight to keep others among the Adherents from simply marching into the complex and slaughtering everyone to reach their deity. Mekan found the arguing entertaining, but fruitless. Killing a bunch of hapless guards in order to free one person, even someone as integral as the Immortal, seemed such a waste. So when Elisah won out and said only a small contingent was needed to enact this mission, he volunteered along with Velkar and Damin. He didn't know the other two well, but they swore their allegiance to the Immortal. All he needed to know was they would go to their deaths to see this through.

  Though their information to get into the complex had been good, Elisah warned the interior workings had changed since Kendrick demoted the man in charge of the guard. A bold move, but one in keeping with his agenda of control. He couldn't possibly hope to keep his power in place if he didn't do something as simple as insure he knew the palace comings and goings.

  Inside the palace was quiet as expected. Foot traffic slowed during the night to just a few guards moving from place to place. Servants, though available, tended to keep their quarters unless summoned. Safer.

  Damin, in the lead, held up a fist and the other two stopped, drawing along the wall to hide in his shadow.

  "Opposition ahead."

  "Armed?"

  Of course Velkar wanted to know if they were armed. He itched for a good fight, as if that would validate his choice to come.

  "Yes. Two. Wearing her colors. Short sword and spear."

  Everyone wore her colors. To look disloyal would not do. That did not keep them from plotting against her.

  "Rush them."

  "Is there another way around?" Mekan put a hand on Velkar's arm. Once upon a time, a great architect built the palace to be near inescapable in case anyone should ever try to take it. One could lead others on a chase through the halls and pick off their opponents one by one. Velkar grimaced as Damin put his hands to his ears in his gesture of thinking.

  The man had a map in his head, but he could only see it if he screwed his eyes shut like a child and blocked everything else out. Mekan wished he had taken more time with the man who taught them to layout. If he had paid more attention.

  "If we go up a level, there's a section which will drop us down two and allow us entrance onto the same floor they're in front of the stairwell to."

  "Good, Damin lead on."

  They had no leader, only an objective. However, Mekan felt that objective would be better served if they didn't litter the area with bodies the way Velkar wanted to. Of course, Velkar took the affront of the Immortal in the dungeon in her own city much harder than Mekan did. Perhaps it balanced out. He would be a good man if it came time to fight their way out.

  They moved through the halls on cautious steps, aware of every noise until they came to the passage Damin described as going down to the floor they needed.

  The passage, sides slick as the inside of an egg, opened like a mouth behind the tapestry.

  "Is it safe?" Damin poked his head then stood up again. "I don't trust it."

  "Anything in your mind tell you what's at the bottom?"

  "No. He didn't include any information on the traps."

  "Oh."

  "I should have asked."

  Three men congregated in a hallway holding up a tapestry no one was supposed to know hid a secret passage. Behind them, a guard came around a corner. A moment later, he shouted,

  "Intruders!"

  Damin dove headfirst into the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness. Mekan hesitated looking at Velkar. They both needed to go, but the tunnel was only wide enough for one at a time and they had no way of knowing what happened to Damin. Yet they stood a very good chance of being arrested and killed if they didn't move along. Velkar jumped down the tunnel next leaving Mekan to snatch up the dagger strapped to his calf and defend himself against the short sword of the guard knowing soon it would be many against one.

  He needed to make his exit.

  Two more guards came running around the corner as he backed his way to the tunnel before kicking the guard in his leather covered chest hard enough to drive him away. Then he slipped away slick as a fish from the hands. As the air rushed past him and he descended, clawing at the tunnel sides in hopes of slowing his passage, he faintly heard the three above him deciding who would follow them down. Then it was gone and he saw light growing toward him, with the unmistakable glint of sharpened metal.

  He couldn't stop his progress.

  Where were Damin and Velkar?

  Wrepta's scales, perhaps this had been a bad decision.

  Crashing into the serrated plate, he tried not to scream, grinding his teeth shut on a gout of blood. Nearby, Damin lay with Velkar sitting beside him, cradling one arm. Mekan levered himself off the plate and rolled to one side. Velkar came to stand beside him.

  "We're in trouble."

  Mekan nodded.

  "Damin's dead."

  He had gone down the tunnel headfirst. Nothing could have saved him.

  Refusing to concentrate on the weeping of his wounds, Mekan forced himself to stand.

  "We have a mission," he said. Speaking told him, as if he didn't know, he had a wound in his chest affecting a lung. The offending trap had spikes just long enough to pierce, but not long enough to go all the way through. Not meant to kill, but to maim. He hated the architect, whoever he was.

  Velkar dropped his chin and brought up his injured arm.

  "Not gonna be much in a fight."

  "Then we're going to have to find a way to do this without a fight."

  "They already know we're here."

  "Then we'd better be quick."

  They would not fail. Unless they both died, then they certainly would.

  "Do you remember the hidden exit from the dungeon?"

  What a surprise it had been to find out there was an exit directly from the dungeon that would put them out on the mountainside above the city. Each mem
orized it in case they were the last one standing. At the time, it hadn't seemed necessary.

  Looking at Damin's body on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood, it became vital.

  "Which way from here?"

  Velkar shrugged and flicked his chin at Damin.

  "We lost our map."

  Mekan shook his head, aware of flying beads of blood. His wounds were bad, but he could still walk for now. "Come on."

  The small ill-lit room they occupied opened onto a main hallway.

  The dungeon level required descent of a spiral staircase, the only one, which bored down into the ground like an animal. They needed to find that staircase.

  What did he remember?

  Sweeping his gaze from one end of the hall to the other, he tried to orient himself. They had to be on the right floor for the staircase. The lights were fewer here meaning fewer people.

  "You go that way," Mekan pointed down the hall. "Quick. See if the stairs we need are there. Hurry."

  The other man took off at a quiet run, his injured arm trapped against his chest. Every where they went, they left a trail of blood. Mekan felt it running down his legs.

  If he didn't know the Immortal was worth every drop, he would surrender.

  Velkar waved him off as he came back down the hall. They couldn't go that way.

  "That way's up and there's pursuit."

  They both took off in the other direction.

  Leaving Damin behind gave Mekan a pang. He would be displayed as a traitor. But with the Immortal on the throne again, he would be lauded as a hero who died for her cause. That had to be enough. Mekan forced his legs to run faster.

  At the end of the hall, the stairs turned down into the earth, exactly where they wanted to go.

  "What's the chance we have to fight at the bottom of these stairs?"

  "There's one guard at the bottom. Unfortunately," Mekan said. Their preparation included information on the most likely schedule for the guard rotation. "We'll make do."

  Velkar led the way down and Mekan tried not to think about the sound of his blood making contact with every step along with his foot. It hurt to think about, but he had no choice.